


Note To Self: Read The Wedding Invite

by glasssmoothie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Annoying Ex Crowley, BAMF Eileen Leahy, Crack, Drinking, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Jealous Dean Winchester, Kid!Jack Kline, M/M, Saileen Wedding!, Sam is a proud husband, Shifter POV, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-27 22:20:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30129696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glasssmoothie/pseuds/glasssmoothie
Summary: Iza didn’t really mean to cause too much trouble. They just wanted to get some free expensive food and champagne. Besides, everyone at a wedding hosted at a roadhouse would be too wasted to notice one more party member– especially one hosted on St. Patrick's Day.Note to self: always read the invite before infiltrating a wedding reception.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 7
Kudos: 58





	Note To Self: Read The Wedding Invite

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the memes going around tumblr about a random shifter infiltrating the wedding, I don’t know what account originally posted the idea

The thing about shifters is that they don’t have to be monsters. Literally the only thing separating them from humans is the ability to change form. They’re not like vampires or werewolves or rugarus, they don’t need to harm or kill humans to survive. 

That being said, most have a predisposition for chaos. 

See, Iza didn’t really mean to cause too much trouble. They just wanted to get some free expensive food and champagne. Besides, everyone at a wedding hosted at a roadhouse would be too wasted to notice another party member– especially one hosted on St. Patrick's Day. 

Note to self: always read the invite before infiltrating a wedding reception. 

First mistake, they took the form of the dark-haired man with the blue eyes and blue tie. He seemed pretty preoccupied with helping a red haired woman decorate an old red car, presumably the one that the newlyweds would leave from, so Iza figured he would be out here for a while. 

This body posed a few problems, not the least of them being that this man was not human, and so his memories did not transfer to Iza’s head. 

Go figure. 

But, as soon as Iza entered the reception, three women, two blondes and a redhead, gestured to him from a table full of bottles and shot glasses, so he figured it would be easy enough to figure out who this guy was. 

“Cas, you do not look drunk enough for this event,” the redhead commented. 

Iza simply shrugged. He was not confident in his ability to play this guy convincingly. 

“God, you really haven’t changed in ten years,” one of the blondes groaned, slapping the seat of the chair next to her. She was dressed in dark low rise jeans and a black tank top with a green and gold flower pinned to her lapel. 

Iza sat in the chair next to the woman in the tank top while the other blonde, this one sporting a leather jacket and dyed green streaks in her curlier hair, poured the table multiple shots. She set three in front of each of the women, and… good god, was that ten shots in front of Iza? 

“Whoa, are you trying to kill me?” Iza exclaimed. 

The blonde in the tank top looked at him quizzically. “What, your angel metabolism failing you? Claire, pour him three more.” 

The leather jacket clad woman grinned and complied. Iza’s head was already spinning, and he was dead sober. Angel metabolism? Then it hit him. Oh, no no no. Not good. 

“Hey, uh…” Iza tapped the table in front of the redhead. 

She stared at him a moment before replying. “Uh… Charlie.” 

“Right. Charlie. Um, whose wedding is this?” 

“Are you stoned?” Claire asked, giggling. 

Iza figured that would be a good enough cover for now. “Um, yes.” 

The blonde whose name Iza had not yet learned snorted. “You are at the joyous union of one Eileen Leahy and one Sam Winchester– now Sam Leahy.” 

Iza felt his blood run cold. “Winchester?” 

“Yes, you idiot,” Claire said, grinning michieviously at Charlie and the other woman. “Now come on, let’s drink. Jo, count us down, let's see who can down them fastest.” 

The woman in the tank top, Jo, counted down from three, and Iza raced to down as many of the shots as he could. The other women beat him easily, with their three shots as opposed to his thirteen, and he only hoped that he had gained the angel’s apparently superior metabolism when he transformed. 

Apparently not. When he finished, Iza’s head was spinning worse than ever. Jo, Charlie, and Claire grinned at him and laughed. 

“Dean’s going to be so pissed,” Claire giggled. 

“Dean?” Not another Winchester at this wedding. Although, it was one of the brothers’ weddings, he should have guessed that the other would be there. 

“Your–” Claire paused when a hand clapped onto Iza’s shoulder from behind. It was a man in a crisp black suit and a dark green tie. 

“Hello, Cassie darling,” the man drawled in an English accent. 

“Crowley, were you even invited?” Claire snapped. 

“Came as a plus one,” Crowley snapped back, then turned back to Iza-as-Cas. “So, I see you’re missing your wedding band,” he said suggestively. 

Oh, fuck. He’d forgotten to check for a wedding ring. “Uh, didn’t want to lose it,” Iza slurred lamely. 

“Your husband won’t be too happy about that,” Charlie said in a singsong voice. 

Husband? Wait… was this guy…? “My husband?” he asked before he could stop himself. 

“Yeah, your husband,” Jo said, elbowing Claire and waggling her eyebrows at her. What the hell was that supposed to mean? 

Oh… this suited man must be Cas’ husband. 

“Oh…” Iza turned to Crowley, “Sorry, dear.” 

Crowley grinned wickedly. “Make it up to me with a dance?” 

Iza nodded, not sure that he could hold his liquor but certain that he couldn’t say no. Crowley took his hand and led him to the dance floor, crowded with… oh god… hunters. They were all hunters, most of them in green flannels or army surplus jackets or semi-nice clothes with St. Patrick’s Day pins on their lapels. 

Fucking hunters! Iza had been stupid enough, unlucky enough, to accidentally infiltrate a hunter wedding! 

Iza’s head was buzzing so much, he couldn’t even tell what song was playing. His stomach roiled, and he pushed away from the man, Crowley, and stumbled to the bathroom. 

After emptying his stomach (note to self: thirteen shots is WAY too many), Iza stumbled out to the sink to wash his hands. He looked in the mirror at his handsome, borrowed face. 

Oh. 

Castiel. 

Angel of the fucking Lord, Castiel. The Winchesters’ pet angel. 

Wasn’t this a big mistake. 

Wait. Wasn’t there a rumor going around that Castiel was married to– 

Iza gasped as he was whirled around and pinned against the cold tiled wall. He felt like he was going to puke again. He was nose to nose with– 

“Dean Winchester,” Iza breathed. 

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean replied, his green eyes glittering, “Dean Winchester. Your husband.” 

Oh, fuck. Iza’s cover was blown. He was dead, he was so– 

“You tryna make me jealous?” 

Iza just gaped at the hunter. Dean Winchester, the famous hunter, who would kill him the second he found out he wasn’t really Castiel. 

Dean leaned in close, and whispered into Iza’s ear. Iza squeaked, mostly in fear. He needed to leave, right the fuck now, before he had to do something that would definitely blow his cover. Dean slid his hand down Iza’s chest and stomach and down to his belt buckle. 

“Dean, I need to go–” Iza managed to say before slipping out of the hunter’s grip and back into the throng of the party. 

Unfortunately, he bumped right into… the bride? 

She smiled at him, and handed him a sleepy toddler clad in a tiny green suit that matched hers. Iza took the toddler, utterly confused, and looked back up at the bride– Eileen, her name was Eileen, he recalled– who was waving her hands at him– oh, god, it was sign language, Iza didn’t know sign language– and bouncing back into the arms of the matching green suit clad groom, none other than the behemoth Sam Winchester– Sam Leahy now, apparently. Were those flowers braided into his hair? 

“Daddy, I wan’ go home,” the toddler mumbled sleepily. 

Oh, fuck. What was Iza supposed to do with a damn toddler? 

“Uh, yeah, okay, let’s go home,” Iza slurred. He carried the kid toward the doors, just hoping that he could get out and dump the kid on the porch and escape, when Castiel– the real Castiel– entered the roadhouse. 

Iza froze. Cas froze. They stared at each other for a long moment, Cas with confusion, Iza with fear. 

“What the fuck?” 

Iza turned to see Dean Winchester narrowing his eyes at him. All the conversation in the roadhouse went silent. Shit shit shit shit shit. 

Before Iza knew what was happening (why had he agreed to take so many goddamn shots?) the leather jacket blonde had snatched the toddler out of his arms. He whirled around and found himself face to face with the bride. 

Shit. 

Without any hesitation, she grabbed his arm and flipped him onto his back. She pulled a silver knife from her cleavage and pressed it to Iza’s palm. He hissed in pain. 

This was how he was going to die. At a fucking wedding reception at the hand of the goddamn bride. Simply because he’d been stupid enough to show up at a fucking Winchester wedding. Show up and then get absolutely wasted at a Winchester wedding. 

Talk about dumb ways to die. 

Iza realized that the bride– Eileen Leahy, right, the one who was known for being able to kill anything short of God Himself– was not, in fact, stabbing him to death, but dragging him by the collar of his suit coat out the door. 

“That’s my wife!” he heard someone– Sam, right, the groom– yell happily to everyone in the room. 

With one swift kick to his side, Iza was tumbling down the porch steps of the Roadhouse. They groaned as they felt the foreign skin on their face loosen. Laughter erupted from the reception party before the doors slammed closed again. 

Iza lay in the grass, trying to contemplate what the fuck just happened and how they had survived the ordeal. 

Note to self: check the fucking invite before trying to sneak into a wedding.


End file.
